


By My Side

by inkwellofstars



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, M/M, Texting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-08 11:52:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8843755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkwellofstars/pseuds/inkwellofstars
Summary: Things happen a bit differently after the banquet. Yuuri doesn't actually forget everything. And he wants to see Victor again.





	1. After the Banquet

**Author's Note:**

> The text formatting will look best on a computer screen, but is still readable on a phone.

Yuuri wakes up the morning after the banquet with an aching head and a mouth that tastes like something has died in it. He stumbles to the bathroom, almost hitting his elbow against the doorframe. Splashes water over his face. Brushes his teeth. Stares at his gaunt reflection.

His phone beeps from his bed.

Squinting, he makes out a series of text notifications. He fumbles for his glasses.

 

**+7 812-XXXX**

**Yesterday 11:22 PM**

Hi this is Victor

 

_Victor. Victor?_

 

Thanks for the dance tonight :)

**Today 12:25 AM**

Ok, asleep? Sleep well

Talk to you in the morning! :)

 

_Dance. Dance last night. Oh my god._

 Yuuri screeches and buries himself under the hotel duvet. After five or fifteen minutes of recalling _too much champagne dancing dancing dancing the warmth of Victor Nikiforov’s face against his hand_ he looks at the latest text.

 

**Today 9:03 AM**

Good morning :)

 

It would be impolite to ignore Victor Nikiforov and pretend none of this happened, right? _Right?_

 

**Today 10:10 AM**

Good morning

I am

so sorry for the trouble last night

 

Just when he falls back against his pillows with a groan, his phone beeps again.

 

No trouble!

Had fun :))

[Photo attachment]

Hope to see you at Worlds!!

 

And then, with burning cheeks and shaking hands, he types out:

 

I had fun too.

Congrats on the gold yesterday

Hope to see you at Worlds too

 

“If I make it,” he whispers against his pillow. He looks at the photo Victor sent him. He scarcely recognizes himself in the confident, laughing man dipping Victor—but he remembers it. Victor was so warm, and he smiled and looked at him as if Yuuri were the only one in the banquet hall.

He had felt the curve of that smile against his thumb. At least, he thinks he did. Victor had smiled with him...for him?

 He lays in bed, caught between euphoria and mortification for the better part of an hour before a text from Celestino has him scrambling to pack.

Yuuri’s phone beeps again when he and Celestino reach the airport.

 

**Christophe**

**Today 12:50 PM**

Thought you might want these photos ;)

[Photo attachment]

[Photo attachment]

[Photo attachment]

[Photo attachment]

[Photo attachment]

Thanks for a good time Yuri

Man of hidden depths hmmmm?

Let’s party again sometime ;)

 

_Oh my god I am never drinking again._

 

* * *

 

 

It’s snowing heavily when they arrive in Detroit, almost a full day after departing from Sochi. Phichit meets them in the airport and slings an arm over his shoulders, grabs the suitcase from his hand.

He doesn’t talk about anything other than the weather and their rinkmates, and Yuuri is grateful. The shock of his actions at the banquet had morphed an hour through the flight into thoughts of _I should have done better, I had this chance to share the ice with Victor and I let him down, I let everyone down, I failedfailedfailedfailedfailed_ —

_What were these five years for?_

They had layovers in Moscow and Paris. He remembers having coffee at Roissy-Charles de Gaulle. He held the cup in his hands for nearly an hour—aimlessly walking through the duty free shops and sterile length of the terminal—before he remembered to drink it. It was cold. He doesn’t remember what he did at Sheremetyevo.

Celestino claps him on the back when they step out of the taxi. “Rest well,” he tells him. Phichit nudges him toward their shared suite, and doesn’t press when he says he’s tired from the flight and wants to sleep.

Phichit is too good for him.

He shoots a quick text to his mother, and collapses without changing onto his bed.

Victor’s face gazes at him from the walls of his single room, beautiful, distant, unreachable.

 

**Victor**

**Yesterday 3:33 PM**

Hope you have a good flight :)

**Yesterday 6:42 PM**

St Petersburg had snow storm

[Photo attachment]

How is the weather where you are?

 

**Today 9:51 PM**

Sorry, had a long flight

Detroit is snowing too, but not as much as St Petersburg

Hope you had a good flight too

 

* * *

 

 

The thing is, figure skating is an expensive sport. Yuuri is lucky—his ice skates and coaching fees are partly subsidized. He doesn’t have any endorsement deals, but his parents send him enough to cover the rest of his coaching fees. Too much, considering the declining tourism in Hasetsu. Prize money and shifts at the local coffee shop pay for the rest.

He has a choice to make now. He’s been continuing his college degree back in Japan when it’s off-season. He takes as many online classes as he can. He has enough credits to graduate next year. He could go back and get a real job, help out his parents, and give up competitive figure skating.

He knows his parents would support him even if he never won another medal. But is his career worth it? His mind says no, but his heart aches.

Somehow he ends up texting Victor, now and then. Good morning, sometimes, or good night. Victor sends him pictures: a St Petersburg pier, a sandwich next to a cup of coffee, a selfie at his training rink.

Victor asks him about himself, with the kind of eager interest he would never have expected from his idol, and somehow draws out stories of Hasetsu and his life in Detroit.

He replies to the latest text:

 

**Today 1:22 PM**

I don’t do much

Training and watching videos on youtube

 

He pauses for a moment, and goes for it.

 

What do you do?

When you’re not skating

 

Victor types, pauses, and types again.

 

I spend time with Makkachin mostly!

Oh, Makkachin is my poodle

[Photo attachment]

She is cute no?

 

He smiles at the image of Victor sprawled over his poodle. His finger lingers for a moment over Victor’s smiling face before he taps the text box to reply.

 

Very cute.

Is that St Petersburg?

 

Yes!

Took the photo last month

I miss her :(

 

Oh

I hope you see her soon!

 

I will!

After the season

**Today 1:31 PM**

Hope I see you soon too :)

 

* * *

 

 

Both the lease on his apartment and his contract with Celestino expire in March and he still doesn’t know what to do. The Nationals are coming up at the the end of the month and he is nowhere near the level he should be at.

If he doesn’t rank well there, he can forget about going to the World Championships.

He spends long hours at the rink after he gets back from Sochi. He flubs too many jumps and avoids Phichit more than he should.

Celestino tells him to not worry and to relax. He always nods and thanks his coach.

But when the rink is empty, his thoughts often circle back to Victor and the beauty of _Stay Close To Me_ when he watched it at the Grand Prix Final. For four and a half minutes, he was spellbound. He forgot his failure. He forgot to be anxious in front of the cameras, the crowd—and just watched.

What would it take, for him to skate like that—to catch an audience’s attention and not let it go? And somewhere deep in his heart, he wonders: _How could I catch Victor’s attention and never let it go?_

Every night, he watches videos of Victor’s program over and over again, until he can see Victor’s performance even with his eyes closed.

He closes his eyes now in the silence of the rink and hears the opening notes of the aria. He opens his eyes and borrows the image of Victor as he skates.

 

_I hear a voice crying far away_

_Have you been abandoned as well?_

 

As he jumps—a triple Lutz instead of a quadruple—he sees Victor on the ice, cold and distant. Perfect beyond words. Alone at the peak, as he has been for most of his career.

 

_With a sword I wish I could cut_

_Those throats singing about love_

 

They have been texting since the Grand Prix Final, but Yuuri knows it doesn’t mean as much to Victor as it does to him. How could it?

He closes his eyes, goes into a flying sit spin.

 

_This story that makes no sense_

_Will vanish tonight along with the stars_

 

He has no idea what about him makes Victor continue their exchanges.

Something about him at the banquet—drunk out of his mind, fearless, shameless—had caught Victor’s attention. But that man isn’t him. And it should be obvious by now that he has none of that confidence and appeal.

 

_If I could see you_

_From hope_

_Eternity will be born_

 

A jump combination here. If it were Victor, it would be like this—

 

_Stay close to me_

_Don’t go_

 

He goes into a step sequence, imagining the elegance of Victor’s movements, his distant gaze over the ice. And then: Victor’s smile at the banquet, the sparkle of his eyes after their dance.

 

_I’m afraid of losing you_

 

He really, really wants to see Victor again.

 

_Your hands, your legs_

_My hands, my legs_

 

He wobbles on the landing of a jump, but he continues. If it were Victor—

If Victor were by his side now, if Victor would stay—

 

_Let’s leave together_

_Now I’m ready_

 

Quadruple toe loop, followed by a triple toe loop. The arc of Victor’s arms as he goes into a combination spin—

He finishes with eyes closed. He stares at the ceiling tiles above the rink, breathless. Clapping comes from behind him. He nearly falls over in surprise, squints to make out the figure by the rink.

“That was wonderful, Yuuri!” He’s relieved that it’s Phichit, and not Celestino or any of their rinkmates.

“Wh-when did you come in?” Phichit passes him his water bottle. He nods in thanks.

“Close to the beginning. Here, I have it on video—” Yuuri groans as his friend brandishes his phone with a wide grin. He watches as his body moves in the screen, the video silent but for the sound of blades gliding on ice. He marks his mistakes, especially in his jumps.

It’s still the best skating he’s done since getting back from Sochi.

“You know, I’ve always admired your skating,” Phichit says casually as the video ends. Yuuri looks over, but Phichit’s eyes are on his phone. “You skate like you really feel the music, you know? And your step sequences are always so good. I’m not going to let you win next year though.”

“Next year?”

“We’ll both be going to the Grand Prix Final,” Phichit states, as if it’s a fact, scrolling through one of his many social media apps. “Yeah?”

Yuuri’s throat feels a bit tight. He breathes.

“Oh yeah, can I upload this?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri says. “Yeah.”

 

* * *

 

 

**Yuuko**

**Today 3:42 AM**

!!!!!

Yuuri the video! It’s just like Victor!!

The kids love it!

[Photo attachment]

Good luck at Nationals from me and Takeshi! We’ll be watching from home! :)

 

**Minako**

**Today 4:11 AM**

Good to see you skating like that again

I’ll come cheer for you at Nationals! Haven’t been to Osaka in ages

**Today 4:30 AM**

Your parents can’t come but let me know if you need anything from home

 

**Victor**

**Today 6:14 AM**

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

You skate beautifully Yuuri and with such feeling!!! I’m flattered ;)

And I

**Today 6:25 AM**

Pay attention to your rotations and that free leg

Give me competition at Worlds :)

I look forward to watching your program then

 

**Today 4:48 PM**

Thank you

I didn’t expect that you would see it

I

Thank you for the advice

I will do my best!

 

* * *

 

 

Suddenly it seems like everyone and their dog have watched the video. Yuuri resists the urge to bury himself in his covers and never ever go out.

But practice needs to be done. And bills need to be paid.

Phichit apologizes earnestly. “I had no idea it would blow up like that!” He offers to take the video down...but Yuuri decides to just leave it.

“It’s no big deal,” he manages to tell his friend. It’s convincing enough that Phichit sighs in relief. And to be honest, behind his initial shock and horror, he actually doesn’t mind it.

_You skate beautifully, and with such feeling._

He had caught Victor’s attention. It was time to try to keep it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm not 100% sure where I'm going with this but I had to write it.
> 
> Do leave a comment if there's anything you liked (and please let me know if there are any mistakes with the figure skating terminology).
> 
> Translation for Stammi Vicino lyrics taken from the wiki.


	2. The National Championships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor continues to text him. 
> 
> If he doesn't do well at Nationals, he can forget about going to the World Championships.

“Coach Celestino,” he ventures one day after practice. “Can I talk to you?”

Celestino gives him a considering look, before smiling brightly.

“Of course!” He motions Yuuri towards the bleachers by the side of the rink. It’s quiet here, away from the entrance and the rest of the skaters. Yuuri is glad for the privacy.

“I- I want to change my program components,” he says in one breath. “For both the short program and free skate.”

Celestino hums. “You don’t have much time before Nationals.”

“Please,” he says. “I need to qualify for Worlds.” He has no idea what expression he is making, but Celestino takes one look at his face and nods, suddenly serious.

“We’ll work on your jumps,” he says. “Make that quad Toe Loop more solid. If we can get you to land the quad Salchow more reliably too, it’ll help with your technical score. And...hmm, maybe moving all your jumps to the second half—”

“Please.”

“It’s going to be tough,” Celestino warns, even as his smile widens. “Can you do it?”

“I will,” he says, resolutely. “I have to.”

“That’s what I like to hear!” Celestino claps him on the back.

 

* * *

 

 

He runs in the morning. Has breakfast. Trains on the rink. Has lunch. Ballet exercises after lunch. Then back to the rink, sometimes with Celestino to practice his programs, sometimes with Phichit. And then dinner.

Rinse and repeat.

He puts everything else on hold.

His boss at the coffee shop takes him off his shifts for the next two weeks and wishes him good luck. She tries to press baked goods into his hands every time he stops by. He always apologizes and mentions his diet, but still somehow ends up leaving with food half of the time.

He gets extensions for his academic work. At the end of an email, one of his professors has typed: Send the paper to me when you can, my wife and I will be cheering for you at the National Championships. He feels vaguely guilty about the grades he’s been getting in her class.

And threaded through it all are the texts he exchanges with Victor.

 

**Today 11:33 AM**

My favorite food?

My mother’s katsudon

[Photo attachment]

Oh

English is pork cutlet bowl? I think

 

**Today 11:38 AM**

It looks delicious!!

Your mother must be a great cook

Love to try it one day :)

 

**Today 12:05 PM**

Her pork cutlet bowl is the best

Used to eat it when I won a competition

But I haven’t eaten it in a while

**Today 12:23 PM**

Would be nice to eat it with you someday

 

Yes!

That would be nice :))

 

When he has a bad night, when his chest gets tight and his mind turns to his failure at the Grand Prix Final, he watches videos of Victor’s programs.

It’s like traveling through time.

Victor as a young teenager, his skating not fully polished but still breathtakingly brilliant. Victor at the Junior World Championships, his long hair floating behind him as he nails a flawless quadruple Salchow. Victor at the Grand Prix, so beautiful in that princely outfit as he finishes his program with a combination spin, arms crossing as if to embrace an imaginary lover.

He watches until he nods off, one hand over the screen of his phone. The videos continue to play under his fingers, one after another.

 

* * *

 

 

**Victor**

**Yesterday 11:17 PM**

Nationals next week?

Will cheer and watch from Russia :)

 

**Today 10:20 AM**

Sorry, slept early last night

Thanks!

Will it be hard with time difference?

 

No, will be around lunch here

Will escape Yakov :)

[Photo Attachment]

 

Yuuri sees the message in the middle of tying his laces. He smiles at the image of Yakov yelling, with Victor looking amused in the foreground. He recognizes the figure being yelled at as Yuri Plisetsky, and momentarily flashes back to that night in Sochi.

_Retire already._

 

**Today 10:35 AM**

Oh

Don’t want to keep you from practice

Russia Nationals are also coming up right?

Good luck!

 

Him. Wishing Victor Nikiforov good luck. What is he doing.

He sighs and tugs on his other skate.

 

Thank you!

I will be ok

Will you be watching? ;)

 

Of course!

 

He doesn’t type: _I watch every competition._

 

Then I will make sure I do my best!

Do your best too :)

Yes! I will

 

* * *

 

 

His parents call him several days before he’s set to leave for Osaka. It’s a video call this time, using his sister’s phone. He can hear her grumbling in the background— _No, this is how you turn the video on, we went over this last time_ —and smiles.

The video flashes on. He sees the worn wooden paneling, the sake bottles at the bar—and then his parents’ faces as they enter the screen.

“Yuuri! You’ve gotten thin!” his mother says, hand raised to her face in worry. “Are you eating well?”

“I’m fine,” he says. “I’m eating well. I’m at a good weight for competition.”

“You’ll be at the Nationals on Friday, right—what was it this time, Tokyo?"

“Osaka, Dad,” his sister interjects, off-frame. “I just mentioned it yesterday.”

“Your mom and I can’t come this time but we’ll all be rooting for you in Hasetsu!”

His sister moves into the screen with a smirk. “Dad says that but Sagan Tosu’s playing that day.”

“I’ll watch the game later! This is more important!”

“Dad, I won’t be mad if you watch Sagan Tosu instead.”

“I’ll watch the game later I said!”

All of them break out into laughter. Yuuri finds the corners of his mouth lifting. This is probably the widest he’s smiled since going through the Grand Prix qualifiers.

They talk a bit more about what’s been going on in Hasetsu and how he’s been doing in Detroit. He reassures them that yes, he’s been eating properly, and yes, he’s been sleeping well, and no, Minako-sensei didn’t need to bring anything to Osaka with her. He knows that she will be bringing food and clothes for him anyway, and reminds himself to keep part of his suitcase empty.

His parents say their goodbyes and make their way to their bedroom, but his sister dips back into the screen, twirling a cigarette in one hand. “You going to practice after this?”

“Yeah.”

“You know, even though none of us really understand the skating stuff you do, we’ll always support you yeah? Just have fun and that’d be enough." She takes a puff of her cigarette, before blowing the smoke to the side. "You don’t need to overthink things.”

He looks wide-eyed at her for a moment.

“I- Thank you.”

“Eh, family’s family. What are you being polite for.” She snubs out her cigarette with a yawn. “I’m going to bed, but good luck, yeah? And come back home sometime.”

 

* * *

 

 

He suddenly finds himself texting Victor almost every day.

 

**Thursday 1:35 PM**

I did ballet

Actually

my ballet teacher got me to skate  

I wouldn’t be here without her

 

**Thursday 2:53 PM**

Must be amazing person!

I have to thank her :)

 

**Friday 1:42 AM**

You watched my junior videos?!

Too old now for long hair :(

**Friday 1:49 AM**

Found your junior videos

[Video link]

Very cute!

 

**Friday 7:13 AM**

Oh no

I forgot about that outfit

I

Thank you

   

**Saturday 1:35 PM**

Hasetsu is not very big

But it’s been 5 years since I visited

Things have probably changed

Your family lives in Moscow right?

 

**Saturday 2:53 PM**

Yes, parents! But they travel a lot

5 years a long time!

Hope I see Hasetsu with you one day :)

 

He finds himself storing these new pieces of Victor in his mind, as if assembling a puzzle that would never be completed. Next to a vision of Victor Nikiforov the figure skating legend: Victor and his cheerfulness in the morning, Victor and his addiction to selfies, Victor and his laughter when he and Yuuri twirled together in the banquet hall, that night that feels so long ago.

He had felt giddier from that laughter, than from the champagne. 

 

* * *

 

 

“Good,” Celestino says as Yuuri skates breathlessly to the side of the rink. “Your quad Toe Loop is looking good.”

“I still can’t land the Salchow well.”

“Focus on the Toe Loop for now. You have time before Worlds.” He looks Yuuri in the eyes with a grin. “If you skate like this in Osaka, you’ll have no trouble. Trust me.”

Yuuri tries to believe it, and not think that this is just empty reassurance.

He’s no genius. All he has is practice. _Is it enough?_

“Trust me.” Celestino squeezes his shoulder, the warmth of his hand penetrating through Yuuri’s jacket. “Don’t practice too much this close to the competition, get some rest.”

 

* * *

 

 

Phichit treats him to dinner the night before he leaves for Osaka. They go to a diner near the rink and end up commiserating over the lack of good food in the area. They still enjoy their burgers and fries, getting grease all over their faces and fingers.

“American food,” they say, and then sigh.

“Come to Bangkok sometime,” Phichit says for maybe the thousandth time. “I’ll feed you well!” Yuuri laughs and offers to show Phichit around Hasetsu, if he’s ever willing to make the trip.

The memory of that dinner brings a smile to his face when he waits for his flight, scrolling through the pictures Phichit has posted. A close-up of his burger, tagged #delicious and #American food. A view of a snow-covered street from the diner. A selfie with Yuuri in the background, staring absentmindedly at his plate of fries, with the comment: _Wish good luck to my best friend and watch the Japan Nationals!_

He saves the picture.

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri always feels strangely out of place, when he comes back to Japan after months away. On one hand, it can be comforting. He buys his favorite drink at the airport 7-Eleven, something which he can only find in a supermarket miles away in Detroit. He doesn’t need to worry about forgetting how to say things in English, or standing out in a crowd.

But it also comes with different pressures. Local reporters sit in the lounge of the hotel, and ask, politely, if he has time for a quick interview. He gives stilted, scripted answers. _I look forward to competing. I hope to do my best. It’s good to be back in Japan._

They say, “It’s too bad what happened at the Grand Prix but Japan’s hopes still rest with you, the ace of male figure skating!”

 _What ace._ He feels like a farce, but he still thanks them for their support.

That feeling returns a few days later, when he and Celestino go to the rink. The men’s short programs start in the late afternoon, so they eat beforehand at a place nearby. He finishes half of his udon, more to reassure Celestino rather than out of any real hunger.

His stomach twists now as he steps onto the ice for warm-up. He thinks he feels the gaze of the other skaters—heavy, expectant, waiting for his failure—but tells himself it’s just his imagination. Just focus. Breathe in, breathe out.

_A triple axel. Okay, that went well. Now, a portion of the step sequence—_

This is an event being broadcast in Japan time on major Japanese channels. Almost everyone he knows _—_ certainly everyone he cares about _—_ is going to be watching.

He tries the quadruple Toe Loop, and steps out on the landing. He thinks he hears a sigh from behind him, but he ignores it. He does it again, and lands it better. He falls on the Salchow.  

 

* * *

 

**Tuesday 2:32 AM**

Victor

I wanted to ask

when you skate

What do you think about?

 

**Tuesday 2:55 AM**

Depends on program

But mostly what I need to do next

And surprising the audience of course ;)

**Tuesday 3:17 AM**

Worried?

 

A little

            

What do you think about Yuuri?

When you skate

**Tuesday 4:20 AM**

Asleep? Sleep well :))

 

* * *

 

 

He attempts two quads in his short program. He under-rotates on the Toe Loop and fails on the Salchow, just like he did in the warm-up.

After that, his program falls apart.

 _Somewhere out there, Victor is watching._ He looks blankly at his score in the Kiss & Cry, Celestino’s arm around his shoulders. Breathes in. Breathes out. Okay.

He still ends up ranking fifth overall.

Celestino asks him if he wants to get dinner when they arrive back at the hotel. He shakes his head, says he’ll just grab something from the convenience store nearby.

He finally checks his phone when he arrives in his room, sprawled over his bed with a bag of cold onigiri beside him.

 

**Minako**

**Today 7:55 PM**

Good job kid

Want to grab dinner near your hotel after

**Today 8:32 PM**

Guess you have interviews

Remember to eat well and get some rest

I’ll be cheering tomorrow too

Let’s go for dinner after, my treat! I’m craving okonomiyaki

 

He pauses on the text box, and manages to type out:

 

**Today 9:43 PM**

That sounds good

Thanks for coming, Minako-sensei

 

He then responds to texts from Yuuko, his mother, Phichit—thanking them for wishing him good luck. He is momentarily tempted to leave his last text for tomorrow, but gathers his courage and opens it.

 

**Victor**

**Today 9:02 PM**

Before you asked what I think about, when I skate

In my FS now

I imagine someone to skate to

You skated my program beautifully, Yuuri

 

 _You skate so beautifully, and with such feeling._ He closes his eyes for a moment.

He had been thinking about someone too, when he skated _Stay Close To Me._ Not an imaginary lover, but—

 

**Today 10:22 PM**

Sorry, I must have disappointed you today

I will

Do better tomorrow

 

No! Not disappointed!

I look forward to seeing you tomorrow :)

**Today 10:36 PM**

Good luck and good night :)

 

He stares at his phone, the tightness in his chest loosening just the slightest bit, until he feels like he can breathe again.

 

* * *

 

 

Celestino chooses music for him to listen to before the start of each season, and Yuuri selects the pieces for his programs from what Celestino shows him.

“It’s called _By My Side,_ you might have seen the film it’s from—”

Celestino played the piece for him, and Yuuri had listened, silently, for four and a half minutes.

“It’s about unrequited love, and longing for the unobtainable.”

“This one for the free skate,” he decided, without really knowing why.

When he performed it at the Grand Prix, he had been occupied with nailing his program components, rather than the mindset of the music. But he has to do better to make it to the podium here.

_What should I think about, when I skate this?_

Even after a night of thinking about it, he goes onto the ice for his free skate without a clear answer. His smooths his shaking hands against the cobalt blue cloth of his outfit, adjusts the ruffles at his sleeves. Celestino pats him on the shoulder and smiles reassuringly. He takes a deep breath, and skates to the middle of the rink to the cheers of the crowd.

The music opens with strings and piano, full of sweet longing.  _An adolescent in love_ , he imagines, as he goes into a lively step sequence.

 _Longing for the unobtainable._ He opens his arms as he turns, and remembers the warmth of Victor’s hands in his, when they danced in Sochi.

_Somewhere out there, Victor is watching me._

He lands a triple axel, before going into a camel spin, leg rising parallel to the ice. Then a step sequence, gliding over the ice with his arms curling, as if beckoning someone closer.

Passionate strings grind to a sudden halt as the music pauses. He stops with it, suspended for a moment in the middle of the ice with his arms loose at his sides.

This moment is the realization that _they will never be loved back, their lover will never be by their side._

The piano returns, soft and dark.

He attempts a quadruple Salchow, but under-rotates and falls. The ice is bitingly cold against his hip and the palms of his hands.

He picks himself up. Steadies his shoulders and goes into a combination jump. Triple Axel. Triple Toe Loop. He exhales in relief.

Why does Victor continue to text him? _And when will he decide to stop?_

The strings enter into a duet with the piano, echoing the theme of the beginning, when the youth fell in love—but with a new intensity, a bittersweet nostalgia.

He knows that Victor will tire of him eventually. And it will hurt, when it ends. But he has danced with Victor, has held his hand and felt his smile against his thumb. He has made Victor laugh. And he has seen sides of Victor he doubts many others have seen before.

He focuses, extends his arms—and nails a quadruple Toe Loop.

_Let me have Victor’s time, if only for now._

As he goes into a combination spin, the piano disappears, leaving a cello repeating the theme of the beginning alone.

He ends with his arms clasped around his chest, embracing nothing but air. The crowd cheers. He collapses to his knees on the ice.

 

* * *

 

 

“You sure you don’t want some sake?”

“No, tea is fine.”

“You deserve it, with that silver medal and all.” She leans on the table with a grin, eyes suddenly gleaming. “You’ll tell me the skaters’ hotel numbers at Worlds, won’t you?”

“Minako-sensei!” He groans and resists covering his face with his hands. His eyes dart over the other tables at the restaurant, hoping that no one is listening.

He also hopes that no one recognizes him. It’s unlikely, with him in his normal clothes and his glasses on, but it still happens occasionally when he’s back in Japan.

“That kid earlier seemed like a big fan of yours,” she says, thankfully changing the subject. She takes a swig of her beer with a contented sigh. “The one that made his senior debut recently, what’s his name—”

“Minami Kenjirou,” he interjects, feeling his face warm.

Minami, who had waited outside the rink after the awards ceremony for Yuuri, and called himself Yuuri’s number one fan, and said that Yuuri was his idol and inspiration. Yuuri remembers staring at Minami’s teary-eyed expression in shock until Minako-sensei nudged him with her elbow.  

“Thank you,” he eventually said in response, feeling out of place. “But I’m not good enough to be anyone’s inspiration.”

“You are!” Minami’s eyes were so bright, and so full of conviction. “I’ve been training so long to be on the same ice as you!” He ducked his head for a moment, suddenly hesitant. “I’m not good enough yet but I want to compete against you again someday. Please wait for me!”

Something about Minami’s gaze made his heart ache.

“I’ll be waiting,” he replied, awkwardly squeezing Minami’s shoulder. “Good luck.”

The okonomiyaki is sizzling on the grill between them. He realizes that he’s been lost in his thoughts. Minako looks at him, amusement showing in the curve of her smirk.

“You have other fans, you know. Minami’s not the only young skater in Japan who looks up to you.”

“I’m just going to let them down.” He fiddles with his chopsticks.

“You won the silver tonight, don’t you remember? At the National Championships?”

“And placed last at the Grand Prix Final,” he mumbles in response. Minako sighs and places an okonomiyaki onto his plate.

“And why don’t you tell me how many people end up not qualifying for the Final hmm?”

He falls silent, looks down at his plate, and concentrates on shoveling food into his mouth. Minako doesn’t press, and they eat in silence.

He turns his cup of tea in his hands afterwards, when the dishes have been cleared and Minako is drinking her third beer of the night. It is late, and the restaurant is empty except for them and a group of drunk businessmen a few tables away.

“I can’t meet their expectations,” he starts, and the words start tumbling out of his mouth. “I know they call me Japan’s ace but that’s not me. That’s just the skater I am when I don’t make mistakes, when I win medals. That’s not me the rest of the time.” He closes his eyes and takes a shaking breath. “I can’t be…I’m just not…It’s too much.”

“What are you the rest of the time?” Minako-sensei’s voice is carefully neutral. He resists the urge to look up to see her face, to gauge what she is feeling. What she thinks about this moment of weakness.

“I- Just me.” _A failure,_ he doesn’t say. Beneath his hours and hours of daily practice, and his years of training, underneath he is still just Yuuri—not good enough, not strong enough. Too weak to shake off his mistakes.

“You know, I was depressed for a long time, after I retired,” she says. Yuuri looks up at her in surprise. Her eyes are focused beyond him, strangely wistful.  “I knew I would have to retire eventually, but ballet was my life for so long that I didn’t know what to do, and who I was, without it.”

She suddenly focuses on him, eyes narrowing knowingly.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not telling you to retire,” she says, before he can start thinking about it. He wonders, not for the first time, how she can read him so well. “But there’s more to life than skating, and there’s more to you than being a skater. You don’t have to be Yuuri the skater all the time.”

“I don’t...I don’t understand.”

“Eh, just think about it. It took me a long time to get it, too.” She finishes her beer and calls for the check.

He thanks her for dinner and coming all this way to support him, takes the bag his parents packed for him from Hasetsu, and makes his way back to the hotel.

In his room, he falls down onto his bed, suddenly exhausted. His clothes still smell of okonomiyaki. His phone beeps.

 

**Victor**

**11:15 PM**

Congrats on silver at Nationals!!

Will see you at Worlds :))

 

He stares at his phone screen for a minute. He did well enough today, to be selected for the World Championships. And with a sudden burst of elation, he thinks: _I can see Victor again._

 

Thank you!

I will see you at Worlds

 

_I will see Victor again._

 

**11:23 PM**

At your free skate today

You looked so

You skated well :)

Pay attention to the height of your Salchow

Will be watching Four Continents ;)

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and please comment if there's anything you particularly liked!  
> (Or if I have made any terrible errors, especially in describing the figure skating.) 
> 
> I have taken a lot of creative liberties this chapter and made stuff up, including the details of Yuuri's programs and his music. (No real "By My Side" like the one I mention here exists in the real world, unfortunately.)
> 
> (Edit here: Thanks to a commenter, please ignore my previous mistaken belief that Minami didn't make the podium at Nationals last year. Minami might have since the official website says he ranked pretty highly, but for the sake of my story...let's assume he didn't make the podium and that the first time Yuuri sees him is how it goes here.) 
> 
> Just imagine Yuuri being ambushed by a random competitor who's been waiting ages for him to finish the awards ceremony and interviews. (Yuuri takes a picture with him and gives him an autograph. Minami cries. His coach apologizes. Yuuri apologizes. Minako saves the day.)


	3. The Russian Nationals & European Championships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri continues to text him, and Victor wonders why.
> 
> Four Continents is a month away.

A few days after the Nationals in Japan, Victor takes his sixth consecutive gold medal at his own Nationals in Saransk. Georgi takes silver.

He doesn’t recognize the skater that takes bronze, but he thinks Yakov has shown him videos of his skating sometime during the season. Technically proficient, but unimpassioned and bland.

 

**Yuuri**

**Today 6:05 PM**

Congrats on gold at Nationals

Your FS was wonderful

 

 _Wonderful._ Victor sighs.

 

Sorry I missed your SP because of my flight

But I watched a recording this morning

 

**Today 7:33 PM**

Sorry had interviews!

Thanks for the support! :))

Back in Detroit?

Was flight long?

 

He waits but Yuuri doesn’t reply. On his morning run?

Georgi and the taxi driver make small talk in the front about the traffic. Yakov is turned away from him, looking out into the streets of Saransk with a severe expression. Victor scrolls through his Instagram feed, and waits.

 

**Today 8:05 PM**

Yes, I’m back in Detroit now

Flight was ok but long, 18 hours

 

Wow! 18 hours!

Watch me at Euros too :)

 

Yes!

I will

 

* * *

 

 

Back in St Petersburg, his days return to a familiar rhythm, a set of steps he has repeated year after year like clockwork for over a decade.

He pats Makkachin in the morning, before leaving her with a caretaker, to be walked and pampered while he is out. Then he follows a strict training menu. Yakov restricts his time on the ice, not wanting him to injure himself in the middle of the season. But he spends a lot of time in the gym, and practices the motions of his programs off the ice.

It’s after dark when he returns home. He pats Makkachin again and kisses her face before going to bed.

Rinse and repeat.

What is new this year are the texts he exchanges with Yuuri.

In the morning, when he has coffee at a cafe near the rink. During breaks off the ice, leaning against the rink wall with sweat running down his neck. During lunch and dinner—meals he eats alone, more often than not.

Or not so alone, sometimes:

 

Your pasta looks delicious

Oh

I am having lunch now but

[Photo attachment]

 

Victor smiles at the image of grilled chicken and salad, before typing:

 

Healthy! Is it good?

 

It’s ok

Have to watch what I eat during season

 

:((

Can eat with me if you come to St Petersburg :)

 

That would be nice

 

* * *

 

 

The days blend together, punctuated by their text exchanges. Victor finds himself drifting. He thinks he has trouble, sometimes, focusing or keeping track of time—but he cannot bring himself to care.

When he feels his days becoming unbearably monotonous, or when he ends a practice session frustrated at the blandness of his own skating, he watches Yuuri.

Victor knows he is good at pretending at emotion. He knows exactly how to move his body to communicate desire, or sorrow, or anger. He can charm reporters, and deflect prying questions with strategic smiles without letting anything show from underneath.

He’s not sure there is anything underneath, anymore.  

Maybe the audience and judges can’t tell, but he looks at Yuuri’s skating and sees real emotion—real desire for victory, real sorrow and anger at his mistakes. Yuuri _feels_ so much, and it makes Victor ache.

At his first senior competition, face full of determination as he attempts a triple axel. At the Japan Nationals, as he goes into a breathtakingly beautiful step sequence. At an empty rink in Detroit, as he skates Victor’s own program as if it were his own.

He can watch Yuuri skate for hours. Has, on more than one occasion—leaving Yakov scolding him for staying up too late the next morning.

In one video, from a broadcast of the short programs at Skate Canada this year, Yuuri touches down on his quadruple Toe Loop. The commentator says, somewhat derisively, _“It’s too bad, Yuuri Katsuki is such a good skater but he still lacks the technical finesse needed to excel in the sport.”_

Another commentator replies in agreement: _“Yes, but I think a lot of that has to do with mindset. He doesn’t have the same confidence as the top skaters this season.”_

The part of him trained to analyze his competitors marks the shaky landings, the under-rotated jumps. But the rest of him is caught by the soft, vulnerable expression on Yuuri’s face, the longing communicated through the lines of his body.

Yuuri skates like his body is being held aloft by the music. _How can they not see it?_

 

* * *

 

 

A week before flying out to Stockholm, Georgi sits down next to him by the training rink and says, casually: “You’ve been on your phone a lot.”

He hums in response, but keeps his eyes on his screen.

“Texting someone special?”

Victor looks up. Georgi responds to his surprise with an enigmatic shrug.

Victor is confused. He has shared a rink and coach with Georgi for years, but they aren’t exactly close. Casual acquaintances, perhaps, but not friends. He had learned early on in juniors that jealousy sours relationships, and that it is safer to keep a professional distance while on the ice.

“You smile more now.” Georgi turns his eyes to the younger skaters on the rink as he stretches out his shoulders. “After the Final. Well actually, not more, really...but it’s different now. ”

“Different.”

“Whatever it is, seems like it’s good for you.”

“And if it is...someone special?” Victor looks carefully at Georgi, but Georgi just smiles and pats him on the shoulder.

“Well, you should try to keep them by your side and not let go, right?”

 

* * *

 

 

**Yuuri**

I’m watching Euros right now

With my roommate

[Photo attachment]

Good luck!

 

He smiles. He saw that exact same photo just a moment ago on his Instagram feed, posted with the caption  _Watching Europeans with the biggest @v-nikiforov fan in the world._

His thumb pauses for a moment over Yuuri’s smiling face, before he types a response.

 

Thank you :))

Keep your eyes on me! ;)

 

He turns off his phone, goes to place first in his short program. He is last to perform his free skate the next day.

As he goes through the motions of _Stay Close To Me_ , he thinks about Yuuri’s skating, Yuuri’s smile, Yuuri’s warm hand against his hip that wonderful, bright night in Sochi.

 

_If I could see you_

_From hope_

_Eternity will be born_

 

He doesn’t have anything to offer Yuuri, other than his skating. But is his skating enough to keep Yuuri by his side?

 

_Stay close to me_

_Don’t go_

 

_Yuuri, keep your eyes on me._

He ends the program to the cheers of the crowd. He sets a new personal best for the season, and takes first place with a lead of almost thirty points. As he gives a blank smile to the cameras, he privately admits to himself that this is the best he’s skated in years.

 

* * *

 

 

Later, in the silence of his apartment with Makkachin sprawled over his legs, he wonders what Yuuri gets from texting him. Details about the programs of a skater he admires? Skating tips from the world champion? 

His mind flashes to a slurred _Be my coach, Victor!_

But Yuuri doesn’t ask him for help with his programs, and continues conversations that have nothing to do with skating at all. They talk about dogs, the weather, food, Detroit and St Petersburg. What does it mean?

What is Victor Nikiforov, without his skating?

_Stay close to me and never go._

Yuuri had called his FS program _wonderful._ He had admitted, one night before Europeans that _Your juniors SP in Bulgaria inspired my first juniors programs_ , and then paused, and added _You still inspire me now._

Victor closes his eyes, and imagines a younger Yuuri, twelve to his sixteen. He doesn't remember much about that night a decade ago in Sofia beyond the flashes of cameras and the weight of the gold medal on his chest. But somewhere halfway around the world, Yuuri had been watching him. Had been inspired by him.

_I inspired Yuuri’s skating. My skating brought him here._

Victor will keep winning, keep dazzling his audiences, keep Yuuri captivated. And then they will see each other again.

 

* * *

 

 

**Yuuri**

**8:05 AM**

Victor

During Nationals you asked me

What I think about

when I skate

 

Yuuri pauses in the middle of typing. Victor waits. Ten minutes pass. He takes a sip of his coffee.

He has learned that Yuuri sometimes needs time to think, and that he will always respond, even if it takes him a while to do so.

Just give him time, and Yuuri will never fail to surprise him:

 

**8:19 AM**

I think of you in my FS

Please watch me at Four Continents

  
Victor’s heart beats once, twice in his chest. He raises his hand to cover his face, and feels his cheeks warm under his fingers.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A much shorter chapter, and the obligatory Victor POV.
> 
> Thanks for reading and do leave a comment if there was anything in particular you liked!  
> It was difficult getting into Victor's head haha, but I hope I did alright.
> 
> Next chapter we return to Yuuri, and the Four Continents Championships in February.  
> (2/20/17 - I promise the next chapter will happen eventually when work eases up a bit haha, it's currently ~50% done.)


End file.
